When the Devil Came Down to London
by The Violet Knight's Angel
Summary: When Castiel detects an ominous, demonic presence in London, he & the boys head out to investigate. While there, they run into our favorite crime-fighting duo, & after a - slight - misunderstanding, John & Sherlock join forces with Team Free Will to find & keep their home safe from this strange threat.
1. Chapter 1

"Really, Sherlock?" John huffed exasperatedly as he hung up his coat. "What made you decide that squatting in a dirty alley for two hours _in the rain_ was a good idea?"

The brilliant detective didn't even turn as he slung his coat over the banister at the bottom of the stairs and set about unwrapping his wet, clingy scarf from his neck. "We apprehended the two gunmen, did we not?" He chanced a glance over his shoulder, piercing gray eyes catching sight of John's annoyed expression. Sherlock said, softer this time, "You didn't have to come, John."

The older man's annoyance melted away. "Course I did, you idiot." Sherlock turned, raising one elegant eyebrow. John gave him a smile. "Who else is going to watch your back?"

"Yes, well….Thank you for that, I suppose." John beamed at this unexpected gratitude, and Sherlock found himself smiling in return. However, his smile quickly turned into a smirk as he analyzed his friend's disheveled appearance. "I believe," he said, "that a hot shower would alleviate that pain in your shoulder.

"I'm not even going to ask." The doctor shook his head bemusedly. "Although I agree; a shower definitely sounds good right now." He plucked at his sodden jumper, grimacing in disgust. "I feel like a drowned cat."

Sherlock seemed to contemplate that for a moment before saying, "'Cat' doesn't suit you…more like a drowned hedgehog."

John stared at him incredulously for a moment before bursting into laughter. Sherlock chuckled along with him. When he stopped, John looked at the taller man and said, "Well, _you_ look like an otter. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go take that shower now." He slipped past Sherlock and headed up the stairs, stopping when he reached the top. "Would you order take-out? I haven't had a chance to eat yet, what with following you around all day, and God knows when you last ate."

Sherlock waved him off, muttering, "You know I don't eat when I have a case. Digestion slows down my thought process."

"Yes, well, the case is closed, so order us some food."

As John disappeared to the bathroom, Sherlock started upstairs, taking out his phone obligingly to order Chinese as he did so. After the order was placed, he glanced at his own dripping apparel and decided to go ahead and change. He'd take a shower in the morning, he decided. John generally took approximately twenty-six minutes in the shower. He did a quick calculation in his head, deciding that the food would be arriving around the same time or shortly after, leaving him with an inadequate amount of time in which to shower, himself. That decided, the detective walked the short distance to his room, reemerging moments later in sweats, a T-shirt, and his usual blue dressing gown and towel-drying his hair, making his dark curls even more unruly than usual.

Sherlock glanced around the flat, giving a huff of annoyance. Now that the case was over there was simply nothing to _do_. He had no experiments that needed attention. The ear he was using to measure the state of earwax in cold temperatures needed to sit for at least another day. John had forbidden him to shoot at the wall, and while he would normally discard a direct order, the detective found himself unwilling to anger his friend. He was just so _bored_.

Especially with John otherwise occupied.

He slunk over to the sofa, muttering, "Bored…bored…bored…" under his breath. He slouched down on the cushions, mind already reassessing his options, when his eyes fell on an object half-hidden behind the armchair.

His violin.

* * *

John had never been one to sing in the shower. Actually, he'd never been one for singing much, ever. Period. The good doctor just could not carry a tune. Therefore, he was able to hear perfectly as Sherlock began to play.

'_I have to admit_,' he thought, '_the man's good. Really rather good.' _The detective switched from melody to melody without a hitch, playing songs John recognized and ones he rather thought his friend had composed himself, blending them all together seamlessly.

The ex-army doctor relaxed, tension bleeding out of him as the hot water soothed his sore muscles and the graceful sounds of the violin continued to float through the flat, obscuring every other sound but that of the shower.

Neither of the two men heard the door downstairs quietly swing open.

* * *

AN: Hello there, dear readers! Congratulations! You have just read the first chapter of my first story. Yay! =D I'm here with Legion, the plot-bunny behind this little darling. Say "hi", Legion!

Legion: *stares vacantly* **WE ARE LEGION.**

*Ahem* Yes, well...I already have the first four chapters completed, & I have begun writing the fifth, but sometimes they take me a while to finish. Therefore, even though Legion & I are doing our very best & working our very hardest, updates may be a bit sporadic at times. Otherwise, I will try to put up a chapter every Sunday. Thank you for reading! Now, you should hit that lovely little button & leave a review. Comments, criticisms, praise, & random mutterings are all accepted, but no flames, please! If you truly don't like my story, no one will force you to read it. Isn't that right, Legion?

Legion: *smiles absently while slowly sharpening claws* **WE ARE LEGION. LOVE US.**


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Hello, my lovelies!

I know I said that I would update on Sundays, but...Eh...I got bored waiting, and I already had this chapter done, so I figured, "Why not update?" Therefore, you are all in for the treat of a new chapter! Yay! Enjoy. =D

Legion: *smiles vacantly* **WE ARE LEGION. READ OUR STORY AND LOVE US.**

~ Angel

* * *

*** 2 Days Previous ***

It was an especially quiet night in London. The ever-present hustle and bustle had slowed considerably from a few hours before, when the sun still reigned supreme in the sky. A gentle, thin fog had rolled in on the breeze and now drifted leisurely through the city.

A small calico sat cleaning herself outside of the alley exit of the restaurant that had "adopted" her, having just finished her nightly meal of scraps. Lifting a delicate, white paw, she set about daintily tidying her whiskers when, with a rustle, three men suddenly appeared in the center of her alley. Yowling in surprise, she leapt behind a trashcan, her fur standing on end.

The two tallest men glanced in the direction of the disappearing feline before they refocused their attention on their companion.

"So, you mind telling me again why you felt the need to zap us halfway around the world, Cas?" one of them asked. The speaker was of average height with neat, spiky, blonde hair and intense, green eyes. There was a small spattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and he was handsome in a masculine, rugged way. Around his neck hung a gold pendant on a black cord, which swayed gently every time he moved.

The man he addressed, Cas, gazed at him unblinkingly with ethereal, bright, blue eyes. He was pale, with a light stubble across his jaw and jet black hair. His hair was spiked messily, looking almost windswept, as if he had been standing in the midst of a gale for the better part of the last hour. He had on a long, tan trench coat over a black suit with a white dress shirt and a loose, blue tie.

Cas replied, "I have detected a disturbance here. We must investigate."

"Yeah, about that," the third man said, wrinkling his brow. He was very tall, easily over six feet. He had light, tawny brown hair that barely brushed his shoulders as he shifted. His hazel-green eyes had a kind look in them, and they seemed almost eager to soak up new information. His skin was slightly tanner than that of his companions, but he still bore a strong resemblance to the first speaker. He continued, "You never actually explained what's going on. Is there anything else you could tell us? Anymore information you could give us?"

"Sammy's right, Cas," the first man added, ignoring the brunette's mutter of "It's Sam." "We need to know what we're up against. You can't just keep us in the dark."

Cas directed his attention first to Sam and then to his companion. "I am aware of that, Dean. I was not going to 'keep you in the dark', as you put it. I was merely hoping that I would be able to come across some more information before I informed you of the situation."

"It's fine," Sam assured him. "Just tell us what you know."

Electric blue eyes flickered between Dean and Sam for a moment before their owner began. "An evil, demonic presence has been detected, and its attentions seem to be focused here, in London. However, what this entity is remains unknown, as does its purpose. Angels have felt the entity's presence before, always at times of great death and destruction. It seems to thrive on the misery of others."

"If you've felt it before, then why haven't one of you already used your mojo and ganked the bastard?" Dean asked bluntly.

Cas returned his stare to Dean. "Because we were never ordered to."

"So basically, none of those dick siblings of yours cared enough to help us puny humans."

The angel cocked his head to the side in confusion, saying, "I'm helping."

"I know, buddy," Dean sighed, his expression softening as he looked at his friend.

Sam glanced between the two bemusedly. Deciding that their "moment" had lasted long enough, he cut in. "Alright. So, first thing's first, we need to find a motel or something and start researching. Castiel, can you zap us to a motel?"

"Certainly." Castiel reached toward the two men's foreheads with two fingers of each hand. Dean started to protest, but the blue-eyed angel had already swept them away, leaving behind nothing but the faint sound of fluttering wings.

Once she was sure the alley was empty once more, the shell-shocked calico crept cautiously out of her hiding place behind the trashcan, resuming her spot by the door. Her ears flicked around momentarily, double-checking that all was silent save for the nearby dripping of water and the more distant rushing of cars on the street. Reassured that all was safe, the cat continued her bath, sparing just one final thought on the invaders of her alley. '_London is getting stranger and stranger.'_

* * *

AN: Well, I'd love ever so much to hear what you have to say, so please feel free to review. It's easy. All you have to do, dears, is click on the pretty, blue button. I promise I will try to answer any and all questions you have and read all of your comments...In the meantime, however, I need to go catch Legion before he eats my cat...

Legion: **KITTY, KITTY. COME TO US.**

LEGION! NO! BAD BUNNY! DON'T CHASE THE CAT!...Oh, Lord help me...


	3. Chapter 3

Well...I know I said that I'd be updating on Sundays. Unfortunately, however, my computer has been having some - *ahem* - _problems._ In fact, it got so annoying that Legion decided to try to fix it by pounding it with a sledgehammer...Yeah. Not his best moment.

Legion: **WE FIX LAPTOP. WE FIX IT.**

I'm sure you could, sweetie. Anyways! Apparently, I left out something important before my first chapter. Legion, would you do the honors?

Legion: **WE DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK. WE DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL. WE JUST PLAY WITH THEM. ***grins with sharp teeth*

Enjoy!

~ Angel

* * *

*** 2 Days Later ***

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Dean asked skeptically, gazing up at the gold numbers glinting in the light of the street lamp.

"Yeah, this is it. The address was actually pretty easy to find," Sam replied as he followed his brother's gaze up from the slip of paper he clutched in his hand.

"It just doesn't look like the home of some big, macho demon."

Castiel tilted his head to the side curiously, reminding Dean of an inquisitive, blue-eyed puppy. His dark hair, wet from the rain now drizzling down around the awning they took shelter under, flopped across his forehead, tendrils creeping down to the tops of his eyes. "I do not understand. Why would a home inhabited by a demon look different from one that is not?"

The two Winchesters shared a glance, equal parts amused and exasperated, before returning their gazes to the confused angel. The eldest scratched at the back of his head in thought for a moment before replying. " You know: old, iron fence, creepy, brass knocker, maybe a gargoyle here and there…." He trailed off, chuckling, until he caught sight of his friend's furrowed brow. Dean sighed in defeat, saying, "It's called sarcasm, Cas. We've been over this."

Cas' forehead cleared, and he said, "Oh, yes. I understand now, Dean."

The hunter shook his head fondly. "Okay, so, how are we gonna do this?" he asked his brother and his angel.

"Well," Sam began slowly, "we know that he's in there, but we don't know the layout of the building or if he knows we're here."

"He was not alone, as well," Castiel pointed out in his gruff voice. The brothers' eyes turned back towards him contemplatively. The angel could see Sam mulling this over, reassessing his various plans of action. Dean merely looked determined, green eyes gazing at him strongly without a hint of hesitation. "I am uncertain as to who the other was. The entity's presence obscures that of any other possible demon. Therefore, I am unable to ascertain if his companion is also a demon."

"Great," Dean said sarcastically, raising his arms into the air before letting them drop limply to smack his thighs. "So, basically, we've got a lot of 'I-don't-knows' and 'what-ifs'. That's just peachy."

The younger Winchester cocked an eyebrow at his older brother. "You scared, Jerk? Wanna sit this one out?" Cas looked between the two, once again confused, an emotion he found himself feeling quite often since he joined what his charge had dubbed 'Team Free Will'.

"No way, Bitch," the blonde retaliated almost immediately. "You know I like a good challenge." As if to emphasize his point, he cracked his knuckles, a smirk painted across his face.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's antics, saying, "Come on then. Let's get in there, get this thing, and get out." He stepped forward, eyes roving the dark, wet street cautiously before leading his companions across the asphalt to their destination.

Dean immediately knelt down in front of the wooden door, studying the lock with an intense, practiced eye. He held out one hand toward the taller man without removing his gaze. "Got the thing?" he asked lowly.

"'Course," Sam huffed, pulling a worn, folded leather pouch out of his coat and laying it in the outstretched hand. He and Cas watched as the hunter flipped the item open on his knee and pulled out a carefully selected tool. He inserted it easily in the lock and jiggled it back and forth for a moment before the three heard a satisfying click.

"Yatzee," Dean muttered, replacing the tool and handing the pouch back to Sam, who quickly stowed it back in his pocket. Then he stood, easing the door open slowly with one hand. With the other, he pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans and cocked it as he stepped through the door. Sam followed, clutching his rock salt-loaded sawed-off in both hands. The angel stepped over the threshold last, shutting the door behind him before following the two humans to the bottom of a well-worn, wooden staircase. "Dude's a slob," Dean whispered, staring pointedly at the dark coat slung over the rail, puddles rapidly forming on the wood below it.

Sam elbowed his brother sharply in the ribs. When the blonde turned to him, a scowl on his face, the brunette motioned towards the closed door at the top of the stairs, through which the three companions could hear the faint strains of a violin. The two brothers shared a look before climbing up to the landing in sync, Castiel trailing behind them.

When he reached the door, Dean held out a hand, effectively stopping the other two. He placed a single finger to his lips before slowly pushing the door open a crack. The two Winchesters peered in, eyes immediately spying the tall, thin figure silhouetted against the window opposite.


	4. Chapter 4

Oh my goodness! I am _sooo_ sorry, everyone! My laptop has some sort of virus or something, so I haven't been able to use the internet on it for _weeks_. Also, my mom has been working with some program on her computer, so this has literally been the only moment that I could use it.

Legion: **WE ARE LEGION. FORGIVE US. FORGIVE US OR WE WILL BE ANGRY.** *eyes gleam*

Uhh...Actually, I won't be mad at all, but I DO hope that this chapter appeases you! Don't hurt me! *hides* I still love you all!...No, Legion! Bad boy! Don't get mad at the readers! It's not their fault!

~ Angel

* * *

Long, graceful fingers danced over strings and drew the bow back and forth, producing graceful sounds from the instrument held under the figure's chin. The lean form swayed gently, hypnotically in place in time to the almost angelic melody. It was one of the rare moments in Sherlock Holmes' life that his brilliant mind was not racing at its full, impressive speed. Instead, he focused on the music he was playing, a few thoughts flitting through here and there: the look on Anderson's face when Sherlock discovered the murderer's base of operations from a few obscure chemical markers on the second victim's scarf; the residual ache from the bullet wound that John had been experiencing in his upper left shoulder - he'd have to find an acceptable course of action to bring his doctor back up to full capability; and-

And the three men currently observing his person from behind the door.

Ah.

Without fully opening his eyes or faltering in his current rendition of Tchaikovsky's First Movement, Sherlock observed the three shadow-obscured figures' reflections in the window. The two in the front, both clearly male and of a dominate personality if their stances and the set of their shoulders were any indication, were both of an above-average musculature. The second figure was taller, his height approximately 6'4", but the man in the front was clearly protective of both him and the third figure, who, though smaller and slimmer, was also clearly male.

As a result of his silent observance, the detective was able to determine the exact moment that the three strangers decided to make their move.

Tensing of the muscles.

Hands tightening around the vague shapes of weapons.

Then, the forward-most figure moved.

Sherlock whipped around as the door slammed open and the three men entered, the first two with their weapons - what appeared to be a Colt Patterson revolver and a sawed-off shotgun respectively - already up and aimed firmly at the curly-haired detective. Their aim was steady. Sure. Confident. The two were clearly well-equipped in handling firearms. The third man, however, did not carry a weapon. _'He is either an utterly terrible marksman or confident enough in his fellows to feel he does not need to carry one,'_ Sherlock observed. _'Most likely the latter, as he does not appear to be nervous in the slightest…Perhaps he is also in possession of something that would make carrying a gun redundant.'_

His deductions took milliseconds.

By the time the first man opened his mouth to speak, Sherlock had already arranged his face into its usual superior expression. "Okay, you S.O.B., fun time's over. Now, you can cooperate, or we can skip the hugs and kisses and get straight to the target practice." The man smirked aggressively, almost cockily.

Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow. "Obviously, that would be terribly unwise of you."

The second, taller man lifted his chin slightly and asked, "And why would why that be?"

"Because I say so."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hello, my lovelies! Happy Independence Day/Fourth of July! I just have to say...HOLY FLIPPIN' FISH! This story has over 1,000 views, which both terrifies and excites me. Thank you all so much for reading! Also, thank you all for your marvelous and lovely reviews. It makes my day to hear from you all, no matter what it is that you have to say. Say thank you, Legion.

Legion: **WE SAY THANK YOU. ***smiles vacantly* **THANK YOU.**

Speaking of which, I'd like to respond to an anonymous review from Guest. I had to re-read your review before it finally dawned on me what you were talking about. When I wrote that, I was thinking about what Sherlock wears underneath his housecoat/bathrobe/thing-a-ma-bob. 'Sweats and a t-shirt' is the best description that I could come up with for that! =)

Anyways, I hope you'll all be happy to hear this. I am currently about halfway done with Chapter 6! Yay! It took me a little while to get it started because I had a SERIOUS case of writer's block. Luckily for us all, however, Legion took to prodding me with his sharp..._adorable_...little claws until I got my butt into gear.

Legion: **WE HELP. WE HELP MAMA WRITE HER STORY. ***sharpens claws absently*

Yes. Yes you did, sweetie. Well, we both hope that you enjoy this chapter! Make sure that you hit that lovely - ah! Sorry, Doctor! - that blue button and leave me a bit of your feedback!

~ Angel (Sorry about the super long author's note! I had a _teensy_ bit to say.)

* * *

John rolled his shoulders under the warm spray of water, feeling his scar pull painfully. What with all of the rain and chill as of late, the old bullet wound had been plaguing him more than usual. He sighed, reaching up to rub at his bad shoulder and mentally running through a few quick and easy remedies that shouldn't take long to provide some relief. Living with Sherlock Holmes meant that the good doctor needed to keep his schedule as open as possible. Never know when a case might pop up, after all.

He was utterly determined not to slow his detective down in any way if he could help it.

Tilting his head back to rinse his hair of suds, the doctor wondered if his flatmate had called to order their take-away. '_The bloody git probably forgot_,' he thought fondly. Deciding that he had best head out there to make sure that he and his genius friend would have food for supper, the blonde reluctantly reached behind him to shut off the spray.

It was only as he was pulling aside the curtain to snag a towel did John realize that the sounds of the violin had ceased.

In the sudden silence provided by the absence of both the music and the shower, the loud, unfamiliar voice rang clearly throughout the flat. "Okay, you S.O.B., fun time's over. Now, you can cooperate, or we can skip the hugs and kisses and get straight to the target practice."

'_Well, that's…not good_,' John thought, already stalking towards the den.

As soon as the aggressive tone of voice reached his ears, he had sprung for his towel, wrapping it deftly around his waist as he snatched up his gun. He hadn't even realized that he had it with him until he'd started undressing and found it tucked in the back of his trousers.

Military training having kicked in, the ex-soldier crept stealthily, silently, yet quickly down the hall. He was peering around the corner by the time the stranger stopped talking.

His heart stopped.

Guns.

They had guns.

And they were aiming them at _Sherlock_.

'_No!_' John's mind rebelled. '_No, they can't -. I can't -. He can't die. Not again. I won't let him die and leave me behind._'

"Obviously, that would be terribly unwise of you." Sherlock's voice jolted him back to the present. The doctor stepped around the corner without a thought, aiming steadily at the backs of the men who dared to threaten his best friend.

'_Glad to see my training's still quite useful,' _John thought wryly, holding his pistol unwaveringly.

"And why would that be?"

Voice as steady as his aim, the blonde replied, "Because I say so."

John had just gotten Sherlock back. He was not letting these men take him away again.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hello, dear ones! I apologize so very, very much for the long delay, but I was at church camp as a counselor all of last week. Needless to say, I didn't get much writing done. Legion stayed home, but he couldn't figure out how to use the computer.

Legion: **COMPUTER DOESN'T LIKE US. WE WANTED TO WRITE. ***ears droop & fangs poke out*

I know, baby, but we have something for you now! I know that this chapter is super short, but I thought that you all might like to have something short rather than nothing at all. Enjoy & feel free to let me know what you all think!

~ Angel

* * *

"And why would that be?"

"Because I say so."

At the unexpected voice, both of the Winchesters whipped their heads around. While Sam kept his gun trained on the curly-haired man by the window, Dean smoothly switched his aim to the short blonde holding his own gun behind them.

"Keep an eye on the tall one, Sam," Dean ordered gruffly. From the corner of his eye, he saw his younger brother tighten his jaw and give a short nod of acknowledgement, flicking his eyes back to the violinist. "Cas, is there any way you can tell us if this one's possessed?" he asked, eyeing the shorter man. He was blonde, with much lighter hair than Dean, and oh man, was he short! '_Is he seriously wearing a towel?_' the hunter thought, raising an eyebrow as the man began to speak.

"_Possessed? _Wait -."

Ignoring the blonde's incredulous splutter, Castiel turned to his friend seriously. "I told you, Dean, that the other presence is too overpowering to know for sure. It masks the energy of any lesser demons."

"Demons." Towel-guy - as Dean had begun to refer to him in his mind - glanced between the three of them, ignoring his companion's call of "John." Towel-guy, apparently called John, raised the hand not holding his pistol and said, "Look. I have - _no_ idea who you are or what you're doing here, but if you will kindly put down your guns and stop threatening my friend, I'm sure that we can figure something out." He sounded amiable enough, but there was something, a glint in his eye that rubbed Dean the wrong way. The guy, even if he was ridiculously short and only wearing a towel, was dangerous.

Flicking his eyes towards John, Sam seemed to come to the same conclusion. He glanced at his brother. "Uh-huh. And if we don't?" the younger Winchester challenged.

* * *

John sighed inwardly.

From the moment he'd turned the corner, the soldier in him had recognized the threat the three strangers posed to both him and Sherlock. Nevertheless, he'd held out the faint hope that everything could be sorted without violence. However, it didn't seem to be that simple.

'_Why does everything involving Sherlock have to be so bloody complicated?'_

* * *

A/N: So? What'd you think, peoples? I hope you liked it, & I apologize once again for the length, or lack thereof. I promise to have more up soon. Thanks for sticking with me, & please hit that blue button. Reviews make me happy. =)

Legion: **REVIEW. WE LIKE REVIEWS. THEY FEED US. ***smiles sharply*

~ Angel


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Bonjour, my dears! This chapter, for all intents and purposes, was an absolute pain in my proverbial butt. I wrote the entire thing in the time that it took me to watch _Avatar_ on FX (which is an absolutely phenomenal movie, by the way!). I was sitting there staring at the page until Legion literally struck me with inspiration.

Legion: **WE GET CHAPTER DONE. WE HELP MOMMY. ***smiles toothily* **MOMMY LOVES US.**

We sure do, sweetheart! Anyways, I promised you all a long(-ish) chapter, & I -

Legion: *turns head to stare at me*

- *ahem* _we_ are happy to deliver. Let it be said that The Violet Knight's Angel keeps her promises! Enjoy!

~ Angel

* * *

Sam subtly and swiftly eyed the new member of their little group with a quick flick of his eyes. The little blonde - and he was _especially_ short compared to Sam's own figure - had seemed relatively reasonable through the whole conversation, but Sam knew. Though short, the man was compact. He had muscle, and he clearly knew how to handle his gun.

Speaking of which, Sam couldn't forget that the guy - John, apparently - had a gun trained on him, his brother, and Castiel, who was apparently content to just stand there. Sam guessed that he was waiting for something to happen that would cause him to step in.

The point of the matter was that John, though he may resemble a cuddly little hedgehog, definitely had his spines intact. Therefore, Sam didn't quite feel comfortable accepting the guy's terms, especially with the likely deadly demon standing before him. "Uh-huh," he said skeptically. "And if we don't?"

The tall brunette heard the little, towel-clad blonde sigh.

Sam didn't exactly expect what happened next.

* * *

Castiel frowned.

His unblinking, ethereal gaze took everything in.

Dean and Sam were clearly in a - what was the correct term? - _'stand-off'_ with the other two humans. The messy-haired angel recognized the tension in the situation, but he chose not to interfere unless his charge or his charge's brother were in true danger. Dean didn't always appreciate his angel 'treating him like he was helpless'. Until he was truly needed, Cas decided to merely observe.

Most of his attention was split between the two major threats to the Winchesters: the demon and John's loaded firearm. Something did not seem right, however. Castiel could sense the demonic presence clearly. It was suffused into the air of the room, obscuring the energy of any other possible demon nearby. The entity was powerful, very powerful, but something was 'off', as Dean would say.

The energy did not feel as strong as the young angel had thought that it would be. The demon was not acting in a threatening manner, as well. It did not 'add up' - Cas was almost proud of himself for picking up on such human phrases, though using them still seemed awkward at times.

Castiel heard Sam's question. The youngest Winchester apparently realized the danger that the blonde man, John, posed. The angel could see that the older brother did, as well.

John sighed, and then Cas saw him move.

* * *

Decidedly, John made his move.

With all of the precision and speed of his years in her Majesty's army, he shot the gun out of the man, Dean's, hand. As the look of surprise registered on the man's face, John had already shot forward with a swing of his fist at the taller blonde's temple. The other, however, recovered his wits quickly, blocking John's punch and throwing one of his own.

'_Well_,' John thought, blocking the incoming fist and kneeing the man in the stomach. '_This bloke is good._' Despite himself, the ex-army doctor was almost enjoying the hand-to-hand brawl. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins. '_Sherlock does often accuse me of having an adrenaline addiction_,' the blogger thought absently, dodging Dean's elbow.

Speaking of Sherlock, John could catch glimpses of his curly-haired flat mate grappling with his own opponent, having caught the tall man unawares when the stranger - John thought he'd heard Dean call him Sam - had turned his attention to John's initial attack.

Suddenly, John saw his worst fear become a reality. The third man, Cas, the one with the messy, black hair, grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders, ripped him from the giant, Sam, and touched two fingers to his forehead.

When the doctor saw Sherlock fall instantly, both concern and rage filled him, and he saw red.

Throwing another punch at Dean and successfully striking him in the nose, John turned to rush to his friend's aid.

'_Please be okay! Don't be dead. DON'T BE DEAD!_'

So caught up in his worry and anger as he was, the blonde almost didn't notice the figure that appeared at his side. The last things that John felt before darkness overtook him were a fist striking the back of his head at the same moment that two fingers pressed against his forehead.

The last thing that he saw was a pair of unbelievably clear, blue eyes.

* * *

A/N: Well? What did you all think? You've all been absolutely lovely about reviewing, but Legion & I could _especially_ use some feeback for this chapter. I purposefully made John's point of view a little distant & less personal because he was in battle-mode. However, I'm not sure if that's quite how it came across, & I'm a little worried about writing Castiel. He's a very complex character, you know?

Anyways, reviews are very much appreciated, dear readers! I'll take comments, criticisms, rambling remarks, whatever. They feed my sweet little Legion! However, he doesn't do too well with flames (they give him tummyaches), so unless you want a snarling little Legion ripping your comment with his claws, I would refrain from them.

Legion: **WE LOVE REVIEWS. REVIEWS TASTE GOOD.** *frowns* *ears droop* **WE NO LIKE FLAMES. THEY MAKE OUR BELLY PAINFUL. DO NOT FEED US FLAMES.**

See? I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, & I'll hopefully start on the next one soon. I have a few ideas swirling around my noggin' thanks to Legion, here, so the wait should hopefully not be too long this time. Probably. Maybe. Eh...We'll see! Haha

~ Angel


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Whoo! This chapter has absolutely demolished my brain. I can literally feel it sparking, & I have my suspicions that it is at least partly resposible for my migraine yesterday. I am now of the opinion that writer's block is one of the worst afflictions imaginable, although I believe Legion may have taken it a tad bit harder than me...

Legion: **WE ARE LEGION. OUR HEAD IS IN PAIN. MUCH, MUCH PAIN.**

Mine, too, darling. Because of the difficulty of this particular chapter, it's not the longest that I have written. However, it's not the shortest, either! I enjoy looking at the bright side of things. Let's do that, shall we?

~ Angel

* * *

When he regained consciousness, Sherlock did not immediately open his eyes.

The last thing that the detective could remember from before the all-encompassing black was the man called Cas grabbing him and touching his forehead. Swiftly and maintaining the illusion of unconsciousness, he thought over multiple reasons as to why he had blacked out, but nothing fit well enough with the situation to be the true cause. There had been no prick of a needle, nor any remaining vestiges of dizziness or nausea. No drugs. There was no tingling of his skin or aftershocks running through his system. Electrocution was not viable, either. The lack of pain in his head also lead to the conclusion that a physical blow was not responsible.

Deciding to gather more evidence on the matter, the tall, curly-haired man turned his attention to his surroundings. He was sat upright in the desk chair, ropes restraining him around the torso, wrists, and ankles. _'They want me alive, alive and restrained. They need me for something that they don't anticipate will be pleasant on my part, hence the restraints.'_ There was a solid warmth beside him, unmoving and at the same level as the bound genius.

_John_.

From his friend's breathing pattern, position, and lack of movement, Sherlock deduced that John was tied to a chair - _'probably brought one in from the kitchen'_ - in a similar fashion as the detective, himself, and that he was unconscious. _'Unconscious but alive. The men have guns and certainly know how to use them, so either they are uncomfortable with murder or they want us both alive.'_

Having determined that his friend was, for the time being, relatively alright, he turned his attention to the conversation he could hear occurring before him.

"I don't understand why we can't just exorcise the bastard!" The voice belonged to the blonde man, Dean.

'_He's clearly the rash one, the brawny type. However, I could see some intelligence there earlier, as well,'_ Sherlock thought to himself. _'He used the word 'exorcise'. Religious fanatics, perhaps. Behavior too rational, too planned out to be truly insane. No signs of schizophrenia.'_ His thoughts flew by at a rapid pace as the others continued speaking.

"We need to know why he's here in London. This could have something to do with the Seals, or he could have important information. We have to make sure, Dean." Sam's voice.

'_Proper grammar. Educated and reasonable in the face of the other's impatience. Clearly, they are quite comfortable with each other.'_ The detective had not missed the slight emphasis on the word 'Seals'. In accordance with what he had heard so far, he concluded that Sam was referring to the biblical Sixty-six Seals of the Apocalypse.

The third man, Cas - _'obviously short for something'_ - chose that moment to speak up. "Something is wrong, Dean. The presence is here, but it is not concentrated enough in this spot. It's as if the demon is gone."

'_Demon?' _The word pressed at Sherlock's memory. There was something very important that he was overlooking, something that he had missed. He felt a vague sense of frustration at the feeling before Dean spoke again.

"So, what do we do? Just wait for the two Sleeping Beauties to wake up?"

Making a quick decision, Sherlock opened his intense, gray eyes and fixed his cool gaze on the three arguing men. "No need for that, gentlemen. Next time, perhaps you should make sure that your hostages are truly unconscious before you speak in front of them." Truthfully, Sherlock almost enjoyed the way the two tallest of his and John's attackers jumped and spun towards him at his voice.

He would never admit it, though.

* * *

A/N: What'd you think? I'm still not entirely pleased with the thing, but Legion & I would love to hear your opinions!

Legion: **WE ARE LEGION. WE WANT REVIEWS. REVIEWS MAKE OUR HEAD BETTER.**

Don't make little Legion suffer! Comments, criticisms, rants, rambles, & 'eep's would all be lovely. I am aware that there was quite a bit of dialogue & thoughts in this chapter, but I was trying to give some insight into Sherlock's little deducing session. =)

I hope that you enjoyed it & look forward to hearing your reactions, my lovelies! They make the headaches worth it. =) Say, "I'll see you next time," Legion.

Legion: **WE WILL SEE YOU NEXT TIME. LEGION.**

That's not quite what I mea-...Oh, never mind. Until Chapter 9, dear readers. Ciao!

~ Angel


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Well, my dears, would you look at that! An update! I apologize for the slight delay, though I did warn you first chapter.

Legion: **WE ARE LEGION. HEED OUR WARNINGS. HEED THEM.**

I have been PHENOMENALLY busy lately, what with helping my cousin move into her dorm for her Freshman year of college, working out my own shedule issues, and preparing for my mamaw's 72nd birthday, among other things. To top the whole mess off, I have been afflicted with the dreaded demon known as writer's block. I know where I'm going with this story, but parts of it are so difficult to muddle through in my head so as to actually get there!

Be that as it may, I AM relatively satisfied with this chapter as a whole, but parts of it still seem a bit iffy to me. I don't know. I wrote everything but the first five lines last night at around midnight-ish. I think I may be somewhat nocturnal, as I then stayed up to read a lovely piece of Harry Potter fanfiction on my ipod for another two hours or so.

Oh well. It is what it is. Anyways! Legion and I want to thank everyone for all of the reviews, favorites, and follows! You've all been so lovely about giving me feedback! I try to respond to everyone's reviews through PMs, but I have decided that, starting next chapter, should I decide any review deals with something that may be relevant to the rest/majority of you readers, I will respond to it in an author's note. Therefore, if I don't respond to your review, check for my answer in the next update! =)

Enjoy!

~ Angel

* * *

"No need for that, gentlemen. Next time, perhaps you should make sure that your hostages are truly unconscious before you speak in front of them."

Sam and Dean jerked at the deep, velvety voice and turned to face the demon and his companion. The demon was the only one awake of the two, and he was gazing at them steadily with his disconcerting, gray eyes. The pale orbs were too calm, almost emotionless, and yet they also glinted with a cool amusement. Sam shivered internally. Cas had said that something didn't feel right with the demon's power, but it just wasn't possible for this guy to be a normal human.

"Look at that, boys. The princess is finally awake," Dean said loudly and with a wide, toothy smile, but Sam could tell that it was false bravado, though he suspected (_hoped_) that he was the only one who could. The possible demon's sudden awakening and unrelenting stare had thrown his brother off, as well. "Good. We have some business to take care of."

Sam decided to jump in. "What are you doing here in London?"

The man, who may or may not be the demon they were looking for - Sam remembered that the vessel's name was Sherlock Holmes - sighed. "Boring!" he exclaimed. "If you're not going to say anything interesting, then you might as well leave!"

Neither of the Winchester brothers knew exactly how to respond to that, and before either one could come up with something, Castiel stepped forward. Impossibly blue eyes fixed directly on intellectual gray, he more demanded than asked, "What is your purpose here? Why have you possessed this man, and how did you suppress your aura?"

"Ah. Now THAT'S better." Sherlock observed them steadily for a moment. He didn't blink. No emotion showed either on his face or in his eyes, though Sam swore he could almost see the gears turning in his head. After apparently coming to some conclusion about the three of them, the bound man opened his mouth to speak. However, before he could utter a word, there was a groan and a shift from the shorter, blonde man seated next to him.

* * *

In another room in another building in London, a leather armchair sat before a crackling fire. The chair was a toffee brown in color and was in exquisite shape. There was not a single mark or blemish marring its surface.

In said armchair sat a man. He was calmly sipping tea so hot that steam still rose from its surface in delicate waves from a dainty, china cup with gold filigree along its rim and handle. A matching saucer sat perched on the arm of the chair.

In the man's left hand was a nondescript, black phone. He took a slow sip of his tea and then swiped his thumb across the screen, scrolling through a few grainy pictures. The first showed a pair of men, one dark-haired and wearing a long, dark coat, the other shorter in stature and sporting a head of sandy, blonde hair, entering the vague opening of a doorway. However, the next few pictures were of an empty street and sidewalk, merely a few cars blurring past. It wasn't until the last frame that human forms reappeared on the screen. It showed a group of three men crossing the road toward the same door the other two had disappeared through.

A slow smirk spread across the man's lips as the phone went dark. He took another calm, measured swallow from the china cup and then placed it on the saucer with a distinct _clink_. He gracefully crossed his legs and steepled his fingers under his still up-turned mouth, elbows propped up on the armrests. "Finally," the man said, staring amusedly into the fireplace. "Now the real fun can begin."

Low chuckles filled the room, sending out an evil chill. Suddenly, the previously merry, dancing flames seemed much more sinister.

* * *

The first thing John became aware of was the absolutely dreadful pain in his head. He groaned and shifted uncomfortably, feeling restraints of some sort restricting his movement.

'_RESTRAINTS?!'_

His eyes flew open, and the doctor was immediately met with three pairs of mostly unfamiliar and one pair of undeniably familiar eyes peering at him in various degrees of masked concern, hostility, wariness, and confusion.

John groaned again, this time mentally. _'Well, this should be quite interesting.'_

* * *

A/N: Ooooooooo! Creepy! Who could that mysterious man possibly be?

I almost ended this chapter after mystery man's little scene, but then Legion decided that we needed give you all a little teaser from John's POV. Sooooooo...What did you think? Like it, love it, hate it, or just want to snarl at it? Please leave a review! I accept questions, comments, criticisms, and the random, rambling rants! Plus, Legion is feeling a little hungry, & I REALLY don't want to wake up tomorrow morning minus my cat.

Legion: **KITTY, KITTY. WE ARE HUNGRY. COME TO US, KITTY. COME TO LEGION.**

No, not again! *sigh* I need to go catch him now, don't I?

~ Angel

PS: I don't know if any of you have noticed, but there are a few mistakes, grammar or otherwise, in some of the previous chapters. Now, this bothers me, especially since they only appeared when I tried to type it all up. (I'm not the best typer.) Therefore, I may be going back through sometime soon & cleaning some things up. That said, if you see that there's an update without the addition of a new chapter, that's what it is. Just giving you fair warning, my lovelies! =)


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I have returned bearing gifts & words, my lovelies! Well, mainly one gift, actually: A NEW CHAPTER! YAYYYY! *cheers* I do, however, apologize in advance for the relatively puny length we have here. I have an explanation for it this time! You see, I am moving back in at my college to begin my Sophomore year on Sunday - or should I say tomorrow, as it is officially Saturday here...Anyways! Because of this, I won't be able to post then or tomorrow/today amidst all the moving in and serious packing that will be occuring starting in a few-ish hours. Therefore, I ran out of time to add everything that I originally had planned for this chapter.

Legion: **WE ARE LEGION. WE TELL MAMA TO WRITE. MAMA DOES NOT WRITE FAST ENOUGH.**

No, I suppose that I didn't. *sigh* Said material will just have to be bumped over to & included in Chapter 11.

Also, I wanted to address a question that was posed to me in two separate reviews, one from **BlueMoonMaples** & the other from **severinas.96**. Each of these two darling authors asked when this story takes place relative to the two different shows we have coming together here. Let's start with _Sherlock_. This story takes place AFTER Season 2, but it is obviously going to have to be somewhat of an estimated AU when it comes to Season 3, as I have NO earthly idea what's going on there. The reason I picked this time frame is because I wanted John to be a tad bit overprotective when it comes to Sherlock. After all, he's already seen him "die" once. I can imagine that he doesn't want a repeat experience. Also, it means that James Moriarty is dead.

Legion: **BAD MORIARTY. HE IS GONE NOW. BYE-BYE.**

Yes, sweetie, he is. Now, as for _Supernatural_, we are somewhere during the whole Apocalypse debacle. Therefore, Castiel still has his angel-juice & his sanity, Dean & Sam have gone through some issues but have mostly made up, & Bobby is definitely still alive & kickin'.

Well, now that I've wasted enough of your time, on with the show! =D

~ Angel

* * *

"What the bloody _hell_ is going on here?!" John exclaimed, attempting to sit up straighter despite both the pounding in his head - _'S'probably from that Dean fellow hitting me,'_ he rationalized, memories rushing back to him - and the ropes binding him to the chair.

Apparently deciding that his flatmate was, for the most part, mostly undamaged, Sherlock scoffed. "Oh, do keep up, John," he said before Dean, who had opened his mouth to reply, could speak. The taller blonde shot Sherlock a scathing look, while John just huffed. "These two brothers are here with their friend, who believes himself to have supernatural abilities, because they have determined that I have been possessed by a demonic entity."

The tall one, Sam, took an involuntary step forward, asking, "How did you know all of that, that we were brothers?" The man's companions, one of whom - most likely Dean - was apparently his brother, looked startled, though Cas decidedly less so.

The detective's eyes flicked over to rest on Sam, and John just knew that his friend wished he was able to fold his fingers together in his usual fashion. "Your familiarity with each other. You and Dean are close, undeniably so," he began, speaking in a fast, monotonous voice that somehow managed to seem animated, almost feverish.

"Sherlock -" John interjected, vainly hoping to keep him from further antagonizing their captives with his deductions.

The dark, curly head immediately snapped around to face the blogger. "Come now, John. Surely you realize this is the most exciting thing to happen in _days_." Sherlock turned back to the others. John sighed, an action he seemed to be performing quite a lot recently, and directed his gaze slightly off to the side, resigned to the fact that the man would do as he pleased.

Again.

"The two of you move effortlessly around the other. Obviously, you spend a great deal of time together. Now, you could be coworkers or even lovers -" both of the brothers made disgusted noises at that and leaned slightly away from each other "- but a familial relationship is more likely. Cousins? Possibly, but the resemblance leans more toward that of brothers. Dean is clearly protective of both Sam and your companion; therefore, he's the oldest. You call him -" here, Sherlock briefly tilted his head in the direction of the blue-eyed, raven-haired man "- 'Cas', which is clearly a shortened version of a longer name. You're familiar with him, as well, enough that I dare say you'd both call him a friend. He spoke of both my 'presence' and 'aura', so he must believe himself a psychic or possessing some other form of ability. You also spoke of a 'demon' and of me having 'possessed' myself. The two of you carry guns, and I can see the outline of a flask in Dean's jacket pocket, most likely filled with holy water. There's also a knife in Sam's pocket. Perhaps you intended to murder me, but then why take the time to restrain me while I was unconscious? No, you want information, information you believe I can provide. Possibly, you want to exorcise the so-called '_demon_' in me, further evidenced by the book in Dean's possession. Obviously."

For a moment, there was silence.

Dean broke it with a shout.

* * *

A/N: Sorry once again for the length! I promise that Chapter 11 will be much more...ah..._intruiging_ & have a much greater length! Don't be too shy to leave a review in your own form or fashion! I promise that I don't bite. =)

Ciao, darlings!

~ Angel


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Hehehehe...Hi, guys! Let me just start this by saying that Legion and I are so, SO sorry!

Legion: **WE ARE SORRY. VERY SORRY.**

I moved back into college for my Sophomore year about 3-4 weeks ago, so I have been fairly busy, what with school work and trying to find a job and what-not. In other words, I haven't had a great deal of writing/posting time.

Not to worry, though, loves! I absolutely REFUSE to abandon this story - as if my baby Legion would let me, lol. In fact, we are here now with our longest chapter to date! YAYY! Cue the streamers and the confetti!

Legion: **WE ARE LEGION. WE UPDATE STORY. WE DID GOOD. WE DID GOOD, MOMMY?**

Yes, sweetling, you did wonderfully. Anyways, enjoy, dear ones!

~ Angel

* * *

"_What the HELL?!_"

Dean took an aggravated step forward, ignoring the way both his brother and angel tensed in the corners of his vision. H also ignored Sam's halfhearted, "Dean." "No, Sam, I want to know how this guy - this _thing_ - knows so much about us, and I want to know now."

"It was simple," Sherlock said, shrugging his shoulders lightly. The two hunters and  
Castiel turned back to the supposedly possessed man and his companion, who was in the process of rolling his eyes 'towards the heavens' - Cas didn't completely understand that phrase, as the realm of Heaven was not necessarily 'up'. "I merely observed."

"Sherlock!" John scolded, giving said man a pointed look. "Now is not the time to be showing off." The short, blonde man looked at the blue-eyed angel and his charges. "You'll have to excuse him," he said, ignoring Sherlock's exclamation of, "I AM a show-off, John. I've already told you this." John continued, saying, "He can be a right git sometimes. However, he is NOT this demon or - or - _whatever_ it is that you're after."

"And why, exactly, should we trust you?" Sam asked skeptically.

"Yeah! For all we know, you could _both_ be possessed," Dean added.

Castiel decided that he should step in before the humans got too upset. "Sam. Dean. Might I suggest that you try holy water? That is part of your usual procedure in dealing with demons." He paused, trying to decide on the proper way to phrase his next thought. "It might prove whether or not they are 'yanking your chain'."

Sam snorted and pressed a hand over his mouth to hide his smile and try to spare the angel some dignity. Dean, having no such qualms, gave a bark of laughter and clapped his friend on the back. "'Yanking my chain'? Really, Cas?" The hunter's smile widened at the confused look on the shorter being's face.

"I don't understand why that is amusing."

The younger Winchester shook his head, still smiling, as he reached into his jacked pocket for a flask of holy water. "It's nothing, Cas. Don't worry about it. The holy water was a good idea, though," he said, unscrewing the lid. His brother copied his actions.

Throughout the exchange, Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow, sharp eyes assessing, while John between the three, brows furrowed.

Castiel still looked slightly confused.

* * *

John was a bit confused.

The three men that had taken him and Sherlock hostage were talking nonsense. They seemed convinced that Sherlock - and possibly he, himself - was possessed by a demon or something. While John believed in angels and demons, God and the devil, and the whole lot, he _didn't_ understand what would cause someone to go around claiming that people they had never met before were possessed. _'Delusions, maybe?'_ he thought, doctor side kicking in.

The ex-soldier tensed as both of the brothers each slipped a hand into their pockets. They pulled out silver flasks. _'That must be the holy water, I'm guessing.'_

Then, with a shared glance and under the watchful eye of 'Cas', Sam and Dean reared their arms back and flung the liquid directly into John and Sherlock's faces.

* * *

As the so-called 'holy water' made contact with his person, Sherlock first felt merely annoyance. He had, after all, recently finished drying after a day of staking out the area he knew the two murderers would visit. They were, after all, attempting to discard their last victim's umbrella, so the alley was a logical assumption.

When he caught sight of his blogger's spluttering and startled expression, however, a good deal of his previous annoyance morphed into amusement. The great detective couldn't prevent the slight upwards twitch of his lips at the sight.

* * *

John spluttered, blinking his eyes rapidly as the water ran down his face and plastered his now soaked - _again_ - hair to the top of his forehead. The ex-soldier's eyes hardened with irritation, and he turned his gaze up to meet Sam's expressive, surprised, hazel eyes. "_Really?!_ Was that absolutely _necessary_? Couldn't you have, oh, dipped our fingers into it instead of, well, tossing it in our faces?!"

Dean and Sam exchanged another glance, this one more shocked than anything. Even their more stoic companion looked slightly surprised. John chanced a look to his right at Sherlock. The detective gazed back at him briefly. The blonde could see the amusement behind his friend's eyes and huffed even as his own lips fought to lift in an answering smile.

"Now do you see? I am not this '_demon_' you are searching for."

Dean looked down at him and muttered a weak, "Christo."

Sherlock made a deep, scoffing noise in the back of his throat and turned his gaze off to the side, dismissing the rest of them. John lost his self-control and began to giggle, feeling slightly chuffed at how the other man looked quite a bit less regal and self-composed with his raven bangs sticking to his forehead in the form of wet curls and dripping down the bridge of his nose.

Perhaps the laughter also had something to do with him having faced yet another life and death situation for the sake of his flatmate.

_ 'As if I'd ever do any different,' _the doctor thought, attempting to reign in his giggles. The disgruntled glare Sherlock shot him didn't much help matters.

"This makes no sense!" John, finally gaining some control of himself, looked, with Sherlock, up at Sam. The taller brother ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly on the ends. "All of the evidence pointed to the entity being here."

Dean began, "Maybe it -", but was caught off when Cas took a step forward and spoke. "Perhaps it spent a great deal of time here but is no longer in the building. That may explain why its presence seems muted."

"Great. Wonderful." John nodded, deciding it was time to get some answers. "Your demon isn't here, and neither Sherlock or myself have done anything, so why don't you let us go and tell us what, _exactly_, is going on?" he asked briskly. "I'd really appreciate not being tied to a chair for too much longer," he added. The ache in his shoulder, which had already been exacerbated by all of the rain and the damp, did not take kindly to his arms being restrained to a wooden chair.

The two brothers looked - once again - to the other. Sam shrugged. Dean huffed. Then, the blonder man swept forward and deftly sliced both ropes with what appeared - to John, at least - to be a ritualistic, silver knife. _'Complete with odd symbols and everything,'_ he thought. Once free, the blogger brought his arms above his head, linked his fingers, and stretched his back with a satisfying crack before settling back into a more comfortable position. Next to him, his curly-haired partner merely straightened his shirt and blue bathrobe and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. Gray eyes gazed at the three disgruntled strangers, no doubt deducing and coming to yet more conclusions.

"Now," John said, crossing his left leg over his right. "Would you please explain all of this? You can take your time."

Immediately, Sherlock added, "But do so swiftly." John sighed, reminded of the case with Henry Knight.

"We don't have time for the whole 'The Truth is Out There' speech," Dean began, slipping his left hand into the pocket of his jacket and motioning with his right. "Basically, the short version is that pretty much everything you've heard about that goes bump in the night is real and out there right now."

"If it helps, unicorns don't exist," Sam added, smirking wryly.

Sherlock's gaze sharpened. "You really expect me to believe that? Please. You're speaking of myths, legends. _Fairytales_," he mocked. "Do you truly expect me to believe that?" he asked, smirking now, himself, almost laughing. "You're all suffering from some form of delusions, possibly caused by stories and lies fed to you by your obsessive father. Thank you for dropping by, though. It has been _interesting_." The raven head turned to John. The detective was obviously quite through with the three men in front of him.

Dean and Sam both tensed at the mention of their father. "Don't talk about our dad like that!" Dean shouted. "And we're not crazy, you son of a bitch!"

Their companion stepped forward, placing a hand on the taller blonde's shoulder. "Dean. Maybe I can prove to them that we are telling the truth."

"By all means," Sherlock said condescendingly, spreading his hands, palms up, "show me this 'proof' of yours."

_ 'This might not end well,'_ John thought.

The electric blue-eyed man fixed his eyes on the duo's seated forms. Suddenly, there was a crackle and a pop as all of the lights in the flat sparked and went out. Then - somehow - where there was once nothing, inky, black shadows sprang forth from the - _man's?_ - back. When they stilled, John could make out their shape. _'Wings,'_ he thought faintly. _'Giant, invisible bloody WINGS.'_

"My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord."

* * *

A/N: So? What's the verdict? Feel free to share; I can take it! Haha, Quite a few things are going on in this chapter. You get to see a bit more into the various relationships going on - speaking of which, Dean and Sherlock don't seem to be getting on too well, do they? - between all of our boys, Sherlock is, in fact, _not_ a big, bad, demonic creature-thing, and NOW the dynamic duo has learned that there are _other things_ creeping and crawling out there in the dark.

I'd love to hear what you think! Critiques, criticisms, remarks, and rambles are very much accepted! Legion and I always look forward to hearing from you, my lovelies!

Legion: **WE LIKE REVIEWS. REVIEWS ARE GOOD. VERY GOOD.**

Many kisses! Ciao!

~ Angel

PS: severinas.96: Your review was _priceless_! You're not alone, however. I've come to the decision that I shouldn't be allowed access to tumblr when in a public place. It always ends in - to onlookers - uncalled-for laughter and odd stares in return, lol. =b Also, it's always nice to hear from you, love!


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